Before the Dawn
by themaelys
Summary: When a trusted ex-agent is sent to Wakanda by Nick Fury for one last assignment, it sets in motion something unforeseen that neither she, nor an ex-soldier and ex-prince, were ever prepared for. Post Civil War, T for now.


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 **Prologue**

It was the silence that kept her up that night.

If only Autumn knew what she'd be getting into when she picked up a call from a familiar unknown number, she never would have picked up. Maybe, she would think later in hindsight, it was this night that started all problems for her.

In bright, obnoxious neon digits, the clock by her bedside read 3:21. Her eyes were drawn to the object telling time, contrasting harshly to the darkness. It was getting under her skin. She's been battling with insomnia for quite some time now, even though she wasn't much of a sleep person to begin with, but _no sleep_ was making it hard for her to function. Tonight, she blamed the silence and annoying things like that clock. "Self-destructive tendencies." She remembered the psychiatrist tell her after the third session that S.H.I.E.L.D forced her to take for legal purposes. Autumn didn't take those words to heart. Though, truth be told, she never took anything to heart. Yes, she was sure that she was finding secret ways to unconsciously destroy herself. Not a joke. But she resisted the urge to roll her eyes when the doctor told her with concerned eyes.

The night was unusually quiet. No sounds of sirens blaring from police cars or firetrucks. No drunken shouts of drivers or pedestrians. No car alarms, no muffled music coming from clubs or bars, no sound of babies crying. Nothing. When she first moved into her loft, she took comfort in those city noises. It was proof that she was alive and living. Sure, she was losing sleep but over time, but she figured she'll adjust into it like so with many things in her life. She guessed she did adjust to it after all, seeing as now it was almost disheartening to hear nothing but silence.

Her eyes automatically flicked over to the clock when the last digit turned to a two. Great, Autumn thought. Another sleepless night with nothing but her thoughts to keep her company.

The sessions with the supposed doctor was to help her with her supposed post-traumatic stress disorder, or the lack thereof. She's been a field agent for as long as she remembered. That was saying a lot considering she didn't remember anything from her past after the age of five – a story for another day. She took direct orders from Nick Fury, accepting his assignments to go there and do this, go there and do that. To tell you the truth, she couldn't care less about where she was sent to or what her mission was, however dangerous or life-threatening it might be. She'd like to think that Fury favored her over other agents because of her ability to distance herself from basic emotions and just follow through with his orders. But then again, maybe it was because she was disposable. She had no family and felt really no need to make friends, after all (another thing that the "doctor" noted).

As a result of her last mission ending… not so well (she was almost killed three times in atrocious, unfriendly circumstances, but it didn't phase her. She was still alive, wasn't she?), she was deemed unfit for duty because of her nonchalance and empty stares. And after years of being in service like a good little agent, she was forced to take a long leave of absence, which Fury took great objection to. But he was dead now and S.H.I.E.L.D disbanded. She took that as a sign and welcomed the retirement. At least, for now.

The two changed to a three. Three twenty-three in the morning.

After living here and there, she came back to the place she was remembered the most, here in New York, living in a loft like the average person with nothing but her thoughts and not-so-pleasant memories of past assignments and missions popping up from time to time. She guessed that's how the insomnia started.

Her eyes went back to the time, naturally and a few seconds after the three turned into a four, she heard something vibrating. Running her hands over her eyes in wariness, she realized it was the burner phone she completely forgot about, given to her during her last assignment.

Since, technically, she was _retired_ , she had no need to even answer the call, so she didn't make any immediate moves to go pick it up.

She expected the thing to stop vibrating and go to voicemail or something, but after two minutes of just straight buzzing, she rolled her eyes and got up to look for the phone. It was buried underneath some books she never got around to read. She sighed at the familiar UNKNOWN blinking across the small screen. Her instincts knew exactly who it was on the other end of the line, calling her at this number, not caring what time zone she was currently living in. She would've ignored it if she could, but she knew he'd find a way to get in touch with her one way or another.

She picked up the call in frustrated silence.

"Agent Rozelle, how's life in Hell's Kitchen?" It was the voice of her former boss. Former, as in dead.

"Depends. How's the undead life treating you?" She replied blatantly. It wasn't even remotely a surprise that Fury was alive, or that he knew of her current location. Or that he still expected her to have her old phone on her with the same old number, and for her to pick up.

"Why, just fine," He didn't bat an eye.

"You been keeping up with the news lately?" He continued in his usual tone of voice, as if time hasn't passed and nothing changed.

If by news, he was referring to the whole fiasco with that witch killing civilians in Africa, a soldier or assassin creating problems, the prince being some kind of panther, and the Avengers disassembling, then yes. But, it was fricking three something in the morning and she didn't have time for small talk.

"What do you want?"

"Excuse yourself from your long leave of absence. I need you in Wakanda," That was all Fury said. That was all that needed to be understood.

Again? Autumn remembered the last time she got on a plane to Wakanda, sent as a liaison agent between King T'Chaka and S.H.I.E.L.D. for whatever reason. She hesitated slightly before answering. "It's not a leave of absence. I'm retired, apparently."

He let out an all too familiar not-amused grunt and said, "I've got no time to mess around. Do you accept?" Obviously, he didn't have time for small talk, either.

"Do I have a choice?"

"You always have a choice, agent," There was that grunt again, but this time he sounded worn out.

She sighed. _"Self-destructive tendencies."_ The words rang in her ear. The doctor used many words that she refused to acknowledge in their sessions. " _You keep returning back to it, not caring of the consequences, the effect it'll have on you and others. One day, you'll find yourself in deep waters with nothing ahead of you, too far to go back, your life flashing before your eyes. You need to get out of this while you can before it's too late."_ She wasn't quite sure what it was that drew her to her job or why she did the things that she did, but she knew it wasn't anything good. _"Self-destructive tendencies."_

Autumn didn't fully remember the rest of the conversation, but she blamed this night for everything, and unbeknownst to her at the time, four men were gathered together at a different part of the world to discuss an important matter, setting into motion something that will affect them in ways they never imagined.

That same moment, it was also silent in the conference room in Wakanda.

Steve listened intently to the silence before him. Words were not being said, but it was like he could literally see what they were thinking.

Everyone was on edge, especially after the whole event with Tony and the Avengers, and it seemed they couldn't find the strength to think of what to do or what to say (that is, excluding the king) – it was deafening. He looked over at Bucky, the subject of the moment, and felt something twinge inside of him. Here was a man, broken, with no recollection of who he used to be, just the guilt and burden of the man he became on his shoulders. Truth be told, his head might have been able to somewhat understand Tony's side of things, but his heart was with Bucky, and from living his somewhat short life thus far, he'd found that listening to your heart was what essentially made you human.

So, here they were: Steve, Bucky, Sam, and the King T'Challa deciding what steps to take next after a consensus that it would be beneficial for everyone, but mostly to Bucky, that Bucky remain with them in Wakanda to try to adapt and rectify to the man he used to be.

"What's next on the agenda, Cap?" It was Sam that broke the silence.

"Uh," Steve sighed. "Bucky can't go back to New York right now. Too many people will be after him. I think the best thing to do in this situation is for him to stay here till the dust settles and take time to get back on his feet."

 _Bucky_. The ex-assassin still didn't know what to feel about that name. He was familiar with it now after hearing people, especially Steve, use the name to refer to him, but it didn't quite feel right. He looked around the room and found all eyes on him, including the King. He guessed they were expecting an opinion from him. Yes, that would make sense seeming how it was his life that they were discussing. But, in all honesty, he didn't know what was best for him, what was best for everyone. How can he trust himself to make any decisions when he didn't even know what kind of man he was?

He, _Bucky_ , nodded once in agreement. That's all he could do in this situation, and figured Steve knew best.

After acknowledging Bucky's answer with all sensitivity, Steve turned to look at T'Challa. He hadn't spoken a word during this short meeting, just listening and observing the group, probably out of respect for the three standing in front of him.

T'Challa stared at him back with aplomb as he stood up from his seat.

"Of course," T'Challa started calmly. "Since Mr. Barnes is granted asylum in this county, he is free to stay as long as he likes. I pray everything works out as you hope it will, Mr. Rogers." And with that, the soon to be king excused himself and left the room, leaving the three to talk over and plan what they needed to. The ex-prince had more important matters to deal with.

Hindsight was a weird thing. If only Autumn knew what a tangled web that his decision, along with hers, would weave, she would have never picked up the phone.


End file.
